


Nourishment

by SarmaArmour



Series: Tribe [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3 + 1, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, More Fluff, if you can call it that, married with kids, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarmaArmour/pseuds/SarmaArmour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 + 1 domestic fluff fic.</p><p>Three times the Griffin/Blake family prepares food for each other (first Clarke, then the kids, then Bellamy) and one time somebody else cooks for them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to make a domestic series. I just need fluff in my life right now. 
> 
> Dissent comes before this, but you probably don't need to read it to understand this, they kinda stand alone. It would just add a little context. That's all.
> 
> As always your comments, kudos, follows/faves etc are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Un-beta'd
> 
> Thank-you for reading.

By the time she unloaded them all out of the car, checked the mail box, brought in the bins, fed the animals and ran a bath for the boys, Clarke was ready to collapse on the couch.

She’d been on her feet for sixteen hours straight and desperately needed to rest.

“Muuuum…” Aithne called from the kitchen as Clarke stripped off her skirt and replaced it with sweatpants. “What’s for dinner?”

Dinner? _Ugh_. She hadn’t even thought about feeding them. _Damn._ Why hadn’t she accepted her mother’s offer to keep the kids overnight?

Because it was Friday, she remembered, and it had been a long week for them all. Bellamy was away on security detail for five days and all Clarke wanted was to spend some time with her three little ferals, even if it meant feeling measurably more tired than she was now, if that were possible.

Clarke stepped into her slippers and strode down the hall, checking on Terran and Ash as she passed the bathroom.

The two of them were using their plastic ocean animals to re-enact the deep sea documentary they’d all watched as a family last week.

It had been the favoured bath time game since then.

“The Blue Whale diets on millions of tiny krill,” Ashwin narrated in his best BBC impersonation. “They’re like shrimp,” he added in his normal voice for his little brother’s benefit.

Clarke stifled a laugh.

“Blerrgh…yuck!” Terran stuck out his tongue. “Occa eats peanut budda, like me,” he exclaimed flopping the rubbery killer whale backwards and forwards in his brother’s face.

“It’s _Orrrr_ -ca,” Ash corrected. “And they are car-niv-o-rous. That means they eat meat.”

“Peanut budda’s meat,” Terr tried.

“No, it’s made out of nuts.”

“Nooo it isn’t,” the toddler protested, sticking out his bottom lip. “It’s _meat_!”

Clarke sensed the start of a tantrum.

Luckily, at that precise moment Terran’s tummy grumbled impressively, causing the two boys to pucker their lips and raise their eyebrows in delighted surprise, an expression derived directly from their father.

They dissolved into giggles, which dissolved into giggles and splashes, which dissolved into…

“Let’s make a tsunami,” Ashwin cried.

“ _Alright_ you two,” Clarke interrupted just in time. “I think you’re clean enough, don’t you?”

With minor reluctance, she managed to get them both out of the bath and towelled off before they raced to their bedroom to put their pyjamas on.

Despite the three year age difference they were the best of friends.

In the kitchen, Clarke found her daughter unloading the dishwasher.

“Thank-you Eth,” she said, kissing her head.

She opened the fridge.

It was abysmally bare besides the usual condiments, some milk, butter, beer, cheese and broccoli.

The pantry was just as pathetic.

Apparently she hadn’t been to the grocery store for quite some time.

Clarke muttered and huffed, too tired to articulate her frustration effectively.

“Are you okay, mum?” Aithne asked with crinkled eyebrows.

“Yes Eth,” she rummaged around the shelves and pulled out various items, placing them on the kitchen counter. “Only, I’ve just realised we are severely unprepared if there’s ever an apocalypse.”

“We have popcorn!” Her daughter cried, holding up the packet with an all too familiar smirk. “Popcorn makes everything better.”

After assessing the random ingredients she had laid on the bench and finding no inspiration for a quick, healthy meal, Clarke sighed and reached for her phone, with the intent of dialling for a pizza.

In that instant she received a text.

 

**Bell**

_Skype goodnight?_

 

She gasped and looked at the clock. It couldn’t be that time already, surely? When either of them was away or working late, they attempted to skype each night at bedtime. It didn’t always work, but they tried.

Tonight she remembered he was a couple of hours ahead of them.

 

**Clarke**

_You scared me!_

_It’s only 6pm EST._

_About to order pizza._

**Bell**

_Pizza?_

_Didn’t you guys have that last night?_

Okay, so meal planning was definitely not her strong point, add that to her list of shortcomings – right next to grocery shopping and numerous other culinary related skills.

 

**Clarke**

_You know I’m no master chef._

**Bell**

_That’s an understatement._

**Clarke**

_Smart arse!_

_But_ _seriously, I don’t think I could stand at the stove long enough to even boil an egg._

_My feet are sore._

**Bell**

_You can boil an egg? :P_

_I’ll give you a rub when I get there._

**Clarke**

_You’re coming home? :D :D_

_Thought you were on duty till Monday._

**Bell**

_Summit suspended._

_About to board._

_ETA 10pm your time._

_Give the kids a kiss._

**Clarke**

xxx

 

Just as she put down the phone with a stupidly big grin on her face, Eth re-entered the room after a quick shower.

“Are we having pizza for dinner _again_?” She whined.

Clarke cringed. If the kids were complaining, perhaps they did eat it too often.

“I want peanut budda!” Terran interjected, padding into the kitchen in his penguin PJ’s.

“There’s broccoli in here,” Ash added, standing with the fridge door open. “We could make Dad’s famous broccoli soup!”

“Blerrgh!” The other three stuck out their tongues and made disgusted faces.

“I think you mean Dad’s _infamous_ broccoli soup,” Clarke clarified.

After raising Octavia on his own with the basest of budgets, Bellamy’s collection of recipes included some strange made-up concoctions. Some were stupendous, others were ordinary.

“Hmm…let’s see,” Clarke flicked through the folder of take-out flyers.

_Too spicy. Too oily. Too tasty._

There wasn’t much bar pineapple pizza that a three year old with a peanut butter preoccupation would even attempt to eat.

 _Ugh_. It was impossible. She’d made easier decisions in life or death situations at work today.

“Why don’t we have popcorn?” Aithne offered, holding up the bag Clarke had unceremoniously dumped in her haste to find something to make.

“ _Popcorn_?” Clarke queried as if the idea was ridiculous.

“It’s a vegetable isn’t it?” Her daughter would make a great debater.

“Pop-corn! Pop-corn! Pop-corn!” The boys chanted, marching around in a circle with their fists in the air.

Well, she sighed. If the peanut butter addict was sold, then so was she.

“Popcorn it is then!” Clarke declared. She was definitely _not_ mother of the year material.

Later, once the kids were in bed, she sent a text with a picture attached that she’d snapped as they ate.

 

**Clarke**

_So… you’ll be pleased to know we vetoed pizza._

_Ash put in a strong nomination for your broccoli soup (not your best recipe)._

_Terr had his usual request._

_Went with Eth’s idea in the end._

_Totally winning at this mother thing._

_Eggs for breakfast?_


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy woke mere seconds before his alarm, unconsciously remembering that he’d forgotten to switch it off after returning home three days early from the summit. He swiped it shut as soon as the tone began to sound, careful not to wake Clarke, who was sleeping peacefully beside him.

Or so he thought.

After rolling over and reaching his arm out to his phone – dark, unruly curls emerging from under the ridiculously fluffy quilt, he turned back and subtly shuffled across the sheets, sliding himself against the soft curve of his wife’s torso and butt.

“Mmm…” Clarke stirred, pressing into him. “How ‘bout that foot rub?” She suggested sleepily.

“I can do better than that,” he roused; his mouth so near Clarke’s ear that she could hear the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

She shivered with anticipation, pressing further into his heat.

“What about the kids?” she murmured.

“It’s 4.30am Clarke,” he growled. “And as much as I’ve missed those ferals, if they come in here at this hour, I’ll send them back to their rooms with no uncertain terms and lock the door.”

Clarke laughed. He liked to _act_ the bad cop in their parenting partnership, but the truth was, he would happily let _all_ three of their kids in their bed for cuddles at _any_ hour of the night, and probably the cats and dog too.

Truth be told, Bellamy was the _soft_ cop.

Not that there was anything soft about him right this second.

“Maybe you should lock the door anyway, just in case,” she advised, turning around to face him, both of them now earnestly awake.

 _Man_ she missed him when he was gone.

But _damn_ , did she live for their moments alone when he got home.

First, they got each other off with their mouths in bed - long and slow and lazy like it was just the two of them and they had all the time in the world. Then he chased her into the shower where they made love against the wall – both of them a hot, wet mess.

Afterwards, they went back to bed, kissing and cuddling and whispering under the covers like a couple of love-struck kids.

“I love it when you go away,” Clarke said as she gave him a back scratch.

“Is that right?” he queried with a cocked eyebrow.

“I mean… I don’t like it when you’re gone, but I like it when you come back.”

“Really?” he gave her a disbelieving look.

“Yeah…” she licked her lips, “…must be the reunion sex.”

“Reunion sex?” he chuckled. “Is that even a thing?”

“It is now.”

He smirked, nuzzling into her neck as they drifted back to sleep.

 

Only to be woken half an hour later by the loud rattling of their bedroom door handle and a sing song voice, echoing down the hallway.

“ _Dadd-eeeee_ … _daaaaaaa-da_.”

Bellamy shoved back the covers in a huff, more tired now than he was two hours ago. He unlocked and opened the door to find Terran on his tiptoes reaching his chubby little fist to try the knob once more.

He almost fell through the doorway frame.

“Daddy,” he cried with glee, rushing into the room and wrapping himself around Bellamy’s legs.

Terran was a definite boy’s boy.  He adored his dad, _and_ Grandpa Kane, _and_ Uncle Monty _and_ just about every other male in their family group. Everywhere Bellamy went, Terran was there, like a lost dog. Clarke would have complained at the unfairness of it - she _did_ carry him inside for her 9 months after all, and then there was the other 9 months of him being constantly attached to her boob - he was a hungry baby. But… it was just too cute watching the two of them do _everything_ together.

The toddler looked up at his father now with a serious look on his face.

“You’re not ‘llowed outta bed,” he said, taking Bellamy’s hand and leading him back to the mattress. “Eff and Ash is making bwekky and you’re not ‘llowed look.”

“Ohh, Ethy and Ash _are_ making brekky, are they?” Bellamy rephrased, climbing back in beside Clarke as Terran crawled across the covers towards him.

He was only _slightly_ anxious about the fact that his six and seven year old were preparing food unsupervised. 

Clarke snorted to herself as he heaved out a heavy sigh, obviously trying to relax.

“Don’t have a coronary, old man,” she teased. “They know not to touch the sharp knives or turn on the stove.”

Bellamy lay on his back while Terran tucked himself into his father’s arms.

Despite all his unrestrained energy, Terr preferred a quiet cuddle like his father, but with the extra body in the bed, Clarke tossed and turned trying to get comfortable.

“Stay _still_ wiggle bum,” Terran told her crossly, parroting his dad to _almost_ perfection.

Clarke froze, trying to stifle a laugh.

Bellamy spluttered with amusement, his whole face graced with an almighty smile.

“Quit that grin Bellamy Blake,” Clarke demanded, lightly kicking his leg beneath the blanket.

“”Uh-oh,” Terran turned to his dad and touched a finger to his nose. “You’re in twubble Daddy.”

“Is that right, little man?”

“Yup,” Terran added, all serious. “Mummy used her naughty voice.”

All three of them erupted into laughter then, giggling and tickling and blowing raspberries until Terran squealed for them to stop.

In between all the nonsense and noise, Bellamy may or may not have stolen a quick squeeze of Clarke’s butt, nudged his nose to her ear and said “Is it wrong that your naughty voice turns me on?”

To which she may or may not have responded by placing her icy cold fingers on that one place under his ribs where he was _actually_ ticklish - that got him wriggling.

Finally, from the kitchen came a loud cry.

“Come and get it!”

When they walked in, with strict instructions from Terr to “open your eyes now,” laid out before them on the kitchen bench was an array of carefully arranged dishes, prettily decorated with vases of flowers and baskets of bread. Each condiment had its own little dipping plate and there was even a platter of uncut fruit. Aithne had rolled up a selection of hams, salamis and sliced cheese on one of their few pretty plates and next to that was a big bowl of scrambled eggs.

“It’s a con-ti-nen-tal breakfast,” Ashwin explained, extending his open hand over the food as he stood behind the display in his apron.

“Just like Daddy has at the hotels when he goes away to work.” Aithne added.

Clarke couldn’t keep her mouth closed.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Bellamy emphasised with a smirk, picking up a roll of ham and popping it between her parted lips, at the same time kissing her on the cheek.

He turned back to the kids and wiggled his eyebrows.

They giggled in fits.

“Dad- _dy_ ,” Terran rolled his eyes in typical Clarke fashion.

“This is amazing Aithne and Ash,” he said, embracing his daughter in an enormous hug and ruffling his eldest son’s hair affectionately.

“How did you..?” Clarke gestured towards the scrambled eggs, her mouth still munching on ham.

“I made them in the microwave mummy,” Aithne answered, “Dad taught me.”

“They’re fluffy too,” Ashwin interjected, “just how you like them.”

Bellamy had to chuckle at Clarke’s awed expression. It was one of the few times he had seen her rendered speechless, outside of the bedroom.

After they had all finished sitting around their round table, eating, talking and telling tales, Bellamy and Clarke cleaned up.

“Wait…” Clarke suddenly paused in afterthought, “…where did all this food come from?” She looked at the leftover bread and eggs, meats, cheeses and fruit. “I swear none of this stuff was here last night when I went to make dinner.”

“I stopped at the grocery store on my way back from work,” Bellamy shrugged, “figured it would save going out on a Saturday.” He hated doing the grocery shopping.

“How come I didn’t notice last night?” Clarke huffed.

“You were half asleep on the couch when I came home.” Bellamy smirked. “Seriously princess, there could be an apocalypse and you would sleep through it,” he bumped his hip against hers playfully as they stood beside the sink.

“Well, it’s probably for the best,” Clarke sighed dramatically, sinking her hands into the dish water.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because if we survived…” she smiled, cupping up a handful of bubbles and blowing them at Bellamy’s face “…we’d never have enough to eat.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for reading, commenting, following, faving etc. Much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

 

There was nothing Bellamy enjoyed more than weekends at home with his family - except for maybe _unexpected_ weekends at home with his family.

He loved his job, there was no doubt, but that didn’t stop him getting excited about a cancelled work commitment.

 It was full of promise.

Growing up he didn’t get much of that. Nor did he get extra time at life, you know, to just embrace living.

So, Bellamy always made the most of those “bonus” moments.

After the kids made an amazing breakfast, Clarke took them to the park while Bellamy wrote up his report; it was a small sacrifice of his time compared to everything he had gained from the cancelled conference.

The others arrived home just as it began to rain, Terran racing through the door with a look of pure joy on his face.

“Daddy, daddy,” he cried, “Mummy says we can paint.”

Bellamy loved weekends at home and extra time at life, but above all he loved to watch Clarke work on her art.

His wife was beyond beautiful no matter what she did or where she was, but when she was creating he literally had no words – even from the vast vocabularies of the three languages he knew.

They ate some lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon in the shed, listening to the rain on the roof as they indulged in their individual activities.

Clarke and Terran painted on canvas and craft paper while Aithne sawed and hammered around them – constructing something out of scrap wood and material. She loved to use her hands.

Bellamy and Ash both read on opposite ends of the old couch, Ash with one of the cats on his lap. Honestly, Bellamy wasn’t reading a lot. In between helping Eth when she needed to use something dangerous, like the drill, or giving Terran’s art his full attention every five minutes when he said “Daddy look,” and trying to define any tricky words Ash didn’t understand - he stole loving glances at Clarke as she stood by her easel completely at calm.

She caught him once or twice and smiled. He was always amazed at how fully aware she was of the world around her, and yet how absolutely engrossed in her art she appeared to be.

When Eth was done and ready to put a coat of paint on her project, Bellamy ducked inside to make some dinner.

Amongst many other things, he loved to cook food for his family.

Dinner time had always held an important place in his heart.

Back before things got bleak, when he was a kid and Aurora was still alive, the evening meal was a time to share stories and laugh. It was a time to sit and cherish each other’s company.

When it became just him and Octavia fending for themselves, tea was like a sanctuary from all the insanity surrounding them. He looked forward to getting lost in the moment of preparing a meal. It was a small escape from the all too large realities of his life.

He made certain they would dine at the table and not in front of the TV, which would have been so easy with two teenagers calling the shots.

Something about watching Octavia eat, and spending those moments sitting still with her, sometimes talking, sometimes sharing the silence, filled him with satisfaction. It was one of the few times he’d stop and allow himself to recognise that they were okay, they were surviving - he wasn’t completely screwing it all up.

Of course it became a thing when she was at college too, and all their friends made fun of him. “Mama Bear Blake” making sure they all ate right.

But nobody laughed when his cooking earned him a ticket to Clarke’s heart. She was always the most emotive when it came to the meals he made for their study nights – “oohing and aahing” at the taste sensations in her mouth. He should have clued in back then as to what that said about her cooking.

“You’re such a food tramp,” Raven would scorn, moving her peas around on the plate as she watched Clarke wolf down her steak and homemade hash browns. Raven was surprisingly fussy with food. “You’d literally eat anything anyone offered you.”

“Not anyone,” Clarke would mumble in between mouthfuls and Bellamy would duck his head to try and hide his pride.

Cooking for little kids was an entirely different story. At times it was trying, like everything else to do with raising children, but with Terran’s current obsession it was infinitely trickier.

Scanning through the repertoire of recipes in his head, he decided on a peanut satay, because he didn’t want to evoke an “end of the world” outburst from his youngest child.

He was half way through making it when Aithne entered.

“What can I do?” she asked.

He was always please when she was proactive, but there wasn’t much left to be done, so she cleared the table and set it.

Moving the stack of mail that Clarke had collected the night before, Aithne smiled when saw her Aunty O’s familiar scrawl.

“Can I open this Dad?” She held up the envelope. “It says – to the Griffin/Blake family.”

“Yes Eth, when everybody’s in,” he said, spreading the plates out on the bench.

Once they were all seated and eating they talked about what they’d done for the day.

“I made a hammock for the cats,” Eth said when it was her turn, explaining the whole process.

Terran was too busy consuming his “peanut budda chicken” to contribute to the conversation. Bellamy loved his little boy, but he longed for the day he grew out of this singular food phase. There were only so many different things you could make with the same ingredient, even with his resourcefulness.

“Thank-you for feeding us,” Clarke whispered in his ear as she kissed his cheek while clearing the dishes. She knew how much these moments meant to him.

Ash talked about the magic almanac he’d been reading and repeatedly asked if he could perform a trick.

“After you’re done with your dinner,” Bellamy said for the tenth time.

“I don’t recall seeing this magic trick book,” Clare mused, picking it up from the kitchen counter. “Is it from the library?”

“No,” Ash shook his head. “Aunty O gave it to me it. It used to be Lincoln’s and she thought I might like it.”

Bellamy and Clarke shared a silent exchange, the intensity broken only by Aithne’s loud exclamation.

“The letter,” she cried, jumping up without asking to leave the table. “Can I open it now please?”

Bellamy nodded. Octavia was her idol.

Inside she found an invite.

“They’re having a dinner party next Saturday,” she said with excitement, passing the card to Clarke.

“A dinner party?” Bellamy questioned as he cleaned Terran up and helped him hop down, the kids heading for the play area where Ashwin wanted to practice. “She hasn’t had one of those in years,” he said, leaning over his wife’s shoulder to take in the details. “Not since they got engaged.”

“Uh-huh,” Clarke clucked looking up at him expectantly, a suggestive smile starting on her lips.

“What?” he asked, as she rolled her eyes at his ignorance.

“Oh come on, Bell. You’re getting slow in your old age.” She shoved him in the ribs and dropped the card in his hand. “Maybe they have another _announcement_ to make?”

She winked.

“Oh…” he said as the penny dropped. “Damn! I need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all for reading/commenting/faving/following. It keeps me going! Love to hear what you liked/didn't like.


	4. Chapter 4

After a chaotic day at work, Clarke was not looking forward to preparing the family for Octavia’s dinner party. Due to the relatively short notice, she’d had to swap shifts to get the night off, which meant working day roster leading up to the dinner and an unfortunate early the next morning.

Clarke had an inkling, however, that Octavia had something important to share, and she didn’t want to miss the moment, or disappoint her sister in law, whom she loved.

Fortunately, thanks to her and Bellamy’s freakish teamwork, they managed to get themselves and their three ferals organised without too much fuss.

Okay, so Clarke had to pick her battles when Ashwin wouldn’t wear the outfit she’d ironed for him and instead insisted going in his magician’s costume, complete with top hat, coat tails and white gloves. And Bellamy had to grin and bear it when Terran turned on the water works because he didn’t want to shower on his own.

At first Clarke was annoyed because she’d been trying to get their youngest to be independent with small things for months, but she didn’t mind so much when he and Bellamy emerged from the ensuite with matching towels wrapped around their waists. The sight of her husband half naked with droplets of water hanging from the ends of his too-long curls and beading on his broad shoulders made her stop mid-way between sliding on her stockings.

She didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over her legs in return, as he lead the toddler to his room to get dressed.

“We should try not to leave too late tonight,” he said with a turn of his head as he was half way down the hall. “Early shift and all,” he smiled suggestively.

Clarke scoffed, knowing exactly what was on his mind. “I don’t think Octavia will take too kindly to that,” she teased.

As it turned out, nothing could have touched Octavia’s temperament that night. She was on cloud nine from the moment she met them at the doorway, dressed in a loose fitting cream chiffon top, jeans and bare feet. She looked so young, Clarke thought, and yet she had grown up so much in the last six years.

Octavia had always been an oxymoronic mix of mature naivety, but lately she’d come a long way to finding balance.

Whilst they acknowledged it was entirely Octavia’s journey and that she had ultimately got their on her own, Clarke and Bellamy agreed that a certain person had a huge influence on her new, chill self.

“So glad you guys managed to make it, sorry about the short notice.” Octavia ranted as she met them at the stairs, stretching forward to kiss Clarke’s cheek and take Terran out of her arms for a cuddle.

“Where’s Monty?” were the toddler’s first words to her.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. She was well aware of Terr’s propensity for the men in his life, but it didn’t stop her plying him with love and affection. “You terror!” she kissed him silly.

It was obvious Terr gave Octavia’s hubby the Griffin/Blake seal of approval too.

But how could you not love Monty?

Especially when he tried out his new menu plans on his family and friends.

“Where’s everybody else?” Bellamy asked as he shook hands with the chef and they embraced each other with a knowing look in their eyes.

“Octavia wanted you guys to be here before the rest of them…” Monty trailed off, stirring something on the stove.

“It’s been a while since you’ve done something like this,” Clarke smiled, returning from the rumpus room after coaxing Terr away from the kitchen with the promise of plastic jungle animals.

“Yeah, well, life and all that…” Monty waved a hand in the direction of the refrigerator. “Help yourself to some brew – I pulled a new batch out last night,” he added, referring to his home made beer.

Clarke wrinkled her nose at the thought. She didn’t think it was much better than Bellamy’s broccoli soup, to be honest, but then she wasn’t much of a beer drinker and tonight she was designated driver.

Bellamy cracked one for Monty and himself, clinking his bottle against his brother in laws and toasting to “Saturday nights with the squad.”

“Hey hold up,” Octavia entered the room, fussing around getting herself and Clarke a (non-alcoholic) drink. “Since we’re toasting already,” she moved over to the stove and wrapped her arms around Monty’s middle. “We have something to tell you.”

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged goofy grins as Monty lifted his arm and draped it around Octavia’s shoulder, pressing his cheek to her cheek as he smiled at her with so much compassion, Clarke’s own heart swelled.

She remembered what this moment felt like. She’d felt the same when her and Bellamy had first told their family.

“We’re having a baby,” the two of them said, still looking at each other with adoration, before finally turning back to their guests, both of their eyes on Bellamy.

Hiding his delight with a duck of his head and a hand through his hair, Bellamy stepped forward with his arms out, inviting his sister into his embrace.

Behind them Clarke and Monty rocked side to side in a happy hug, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

“So thrilled for you both,” she said, standing back and holding Monty’s shoulders while she wiped an errant tear of joy from her cheek. “You deserve all the happiness.”

It had been a hard road for both of them.

After Octavia lost Lincoln, _she_ became lost – even to her brother.

Then tragedy befell Monty’s family as well and the two of them leant on each other in their hour of need. After that they grew closer and closer together. They’d always been the best of friends, along with Jasper – the troublesome trio - as Bellamy used to call them in High School.

Everybody had expected them to have babies as soon as they were married, but Clarke was glad they did it their way. They had still been healing.

“You’re ready for this,” Bellamy said to the both of them, shaking Monty’s hand once more.

“I guess,” Octavia shrugged. “As ready as we can be for the end of the world as we know it!”

They all laughed.

“It’s not the end of the world O,” Bellamy smiled, his voice a little deeper, more protective. “It’s just the beginning.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But it is a little scary!” The look in her eyes was wild with a mix of adrenaline and awe.

“What’s scary?” Aithne asked, entering the kitchen and taking in the tight huddle of adults with her eyebrows arched.

Bellamy gestured for her to lean into him for a side hug, which she did, always eager to show her affection for her father.

He looked to Octavia who nodded in acknowledgement.

“What’s scary is that you,  Terr and Ash are going to be big cousins.”

“Again?” Aithne gasped. “You mean Uncle Nate and Uncle Bry are having _another_ baby?”

Clarke entertained that idea for a moment. They already had four.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Aunty O and Uncle Monty are.”

“Really?” Ethy squealed, reaching out to O for a cuddle straight away. “That’s so cool!” After a second or two she stepped back. “Can I name the baby?”

Octavia snorted and turned to Bellamy with her brow furrowed. “You’ve created a monster!”

Standing around the kitchen, the smell of Monty’s cooking filling her stomach with promise and the sound of their laughter singing in her ears, Clarke realised how much she’d missed these extended family meals.

When the doorbell rang and Octavia and Aithne walked off hand in hand to answer it, Clarke wasn’t surprised when Bellamy shuffled up beside her. Her pensiveness never escaped him and he always seemed to know exactly what was on her mind.

Smiling, he slid a hand down to the small of her back, placed his lips on her forehead and said, “So, this sure beats popcorn, pizza or peanut butter, right?”

Clarke couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lame arse ending. I got stuck writing this fic. I really wanted to include more of the delinquents, but I'm afraid I suck at ensemble scenes. I struggle to channel all those characters at once. Hope you like the Monty/Octavia pairing, I've always toyed with the idea of those two together in my head, but it's mostly inspired by their scenes at the dropship in 3x11, Nevermore. I had the idea before Harper and he were canon and I wanted to stick with it, so... yeah.
> 
> Thank-you all for reading, following, faving, commenting etc - it makes my day!
> 
> I have one of those tumblr things now, but I haven't figured out how to link it... so here it is: https://sarmaarmour.tumblr.com/


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